


Humiliation.

by Lanna Michaels (lannamichaels), valuna



Category: LOTR RPS
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-10-17
Updated: 2003-10-17
Packaged: 2017-10-07 22:36:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/69953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lannamichaels/pseuds/Lanna%20Michaels, https://archiveofourown.org/users/valuna/pseuds/valuna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sean and Viggo do humiliation play.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Humiliation.

**Author's Note:**

> Squick note: Humiliation, lots of nasty things said in the heat of roleplay, implied d/s relationship.
> 
> Style note: Done as an IM roleplay and left relatively intact as such.

It's a chilly December night and Sean sits comfortably in black sweater and jeans on the couch. He's deep into the book he's reading, and only cursorily takes note of Viggo entering the room.

Viggo lowers himself to the ground. His eyes are already on Sean's feet. "Please, sir?"

"Please what?" Sean doesn't look away from his reading, but takes note of Viggo's position from over the pages.

"Kick me, sir."

"Why?"

"There's..." Viggo glances up briefly to see if Sean's looking at him. "There's a parable, story, I don't know. About a bird."

Sean pulls the book to his chest. "There's a boy kneeling at my feet, asking to be kicked, when he has done nothing to merit punishment. It'd better be a good story."

"It's not ... it's not like that. The bird, he was held in a hand. And no matter how hard the man clenched, the bird was safe. The man was always careful that he was never hurt. He protected that little bird."

"What are you on about?" Sean puts the book down on the couch, leans forward, resting his arms on his legs. "Explain it to me in less poetic terms, Vig, and I might consider doing what you ask."

Viggo meets Sean's eyes. "I want you to remind me of my place."

Sean smiles. "Feeling out of sorts? Believing your press?" Sean reaches out, tangles his fingers in Viggo's hair. "Thinking that you're anything other than mine?"

"I don't like the things they're saying. It's an ensemble film, they should know that by now. And," Viggo's gaze drops once more, "I don't like how they never mention Boromir's legacy."

Sean's hand tightens in the honeyblond strands, pulling Viggo's head taut. "Do _not_ put this back on me." His voice is low, steady, not harsh. They've had this conversation before, so many times. "It is a film, not reality. And it is _not_ who you are."

"So remind me."

"You are mine, Viggo Mortensen." He pulls Viggo's head up, a move that forces the body to follow. "Mine to love. Mine to use."

Viggo ends up almost in a crouching position and his scalp is beginning to ache from the strength of Sean's hold. "Show me, Sean. I need to feel it."

"Feel what? My cock buried so deep inside you that you can't breathe?" Sean slides his hand out of Viggo's hair and down to his collar, yanks on the shirt, pulls Viggo upright. "My hand around your throat? Forcing you down on me?"

Viggo shakes his head. "I told you what I want."

"Ah, yes." Sean stands, pulling Viggo up with him and then abruptly letting go, shoving Viggo backward onto the floor with a fair amount of force. "You wanted to be kicked."

Viggo lands on his ass, but has the presence of mind to make sure his head doesn't slam against the floor. "Please," he says when he gets his breathing under control. "Please, sir."

"Alright, boy." Sean strikes out at Viggo's body with precise, carefully controlled power kicks, first to the calf, then thigh.

Viggo grunts at the pain, but keeps himself prone on the ground. "Humiliate me, Sean. Please, sir."

Sean kicks Viggo's shoulder with the side of his shoe, a solid football kick. "You're on the fuckin' floor. Begging me to humiliate you." A second kick. "You're pathetic. Don't know how you can take those articles seriously." A third one, this solidly against his upper arm. "You didn't carry the films. You're not _that_ good."

Viggo screams as the blows connect and tears squeeze out of his eyelids. He can hear everything Sean's saying, and he wants more.

Reaching down, Sean yanks Viggo up from the floor with both hands. "You're nothing without us. Just a hack artist who throws words together into sentences that don't even make sense and thinks it's poetry." He jerks Viggo's arms behind his back, locking down on Viggo's wrists with his hands, and pushes him across the room in front of him, holding tight.

Viggo stumbles, but Sean won't let him fall. He hangs, half-standing, half-falling, head low. "Say it," he whispers. "Say I'm worthless."

"That's too simple. Easy way out." They move into the hallway, half-stumbling over each other, and Sean pushes Viggo into the small table. One hand holds Viggo's wrists in place. The other hand reaches under Viggo's chin and lifts his head. "Open your eyes, boy."

Viggo opens them hesitantly and needs to blink to clear them. "Yes, sir."

The mirror hanging over the table isn't ornate. It's just beveled glass in a pewter frame, enough to cast a reflection. Sean stares, watching the mirror image of his lover respond. "Tell yourself, Viggo. Say 'I'm worthless'."

At a time when he doesn't need this so fucking much, he'll make the joke. For now, Viggo just swallows, repeats, "I'm worthless."

"Look at that." Sean grips Viggo's chin, fingers stretching up the jaw, clutching. "So fucking pathetic. Has to ask his lover to hit him to make him feel something." Sean's dropping into another headspace, someone not as nice as Neil Bryne but nowhere as psychotic as Jason Locke. "Has to be humiliated to feel like he's worth something. Is that you, Viggo? See yourself? Such a fucking slut."

Viggo stares up at Sean, but can't quite meet his gaze. "Yes, sir," he answers, ashamed. "I'm a ... I'm worthless."

Sean tightens his grip, forces Viggo's head straight. "Don't drop your eyes," he says harshly, bitingly. "Stare straight ahead. I want you to see this person."

Viggo stares unblinkingly into the mirror. "I see him, sir."

"Good. See that face." Sean relaxes his hand, lets his fingers slide over Viggo's mouth. "That mouth." Pauses, his thumb resting on Viggo's lower lip. "Suck it."

Viggo opens his mouth enough to let Sean's thumb in, not able to look away from his reflection. He looks like a cheap slut. Which, Viggo reminds himself, he is. Viggo sucks eagerly on Sean's finger, eyes darting across the mirror, looking for Sean's reaction.

Sean leans in, his head nearly against Viggo's, chin at shoulder. He slides in a finger with the thumb and then two. "You'd suck my whole hand if I asked you. Suck it for all you're worth before I shoved it up your arse." He's smiling, a too-wicked smile. There's a tiny, recessed part of his soul that enjoys it too much when Viggo wants him like this. "Why do I bother with you?" he asks as he pulls his hand from Viggo's mouth, wiping it down the front of Viggo's shirt. "I could do so much better. Than a hack artist who thinks he's an actor."

Viggo's eyes water and he blinks them away. It's true, it's all so fucking true. "Sir...please."

"Please. Please. That is one thing you're good at. Begging." Sean pushes into Viggo's back, pressing the twined wrists into flannel shirt. "What could you possibly ask me for now?"

"More."

"More?" Sean slams Viggo facedown into the table, sending the knick-knacks on it scattering across polished cherry wood finish. "You're not worth it, Mortensen. You're barely worth the energy I've expended on you."

"Yes," Viggo hisses, not sure if it comes out through the sweet pain and the way his voice has got to be muffled. "N'worth it. Whore."

"That's exactly what you are. A whore." Sean bends down, whispers against Viggo's ear. "My whore. And right now my precious little slut is going to crawl to the bedroom, undress me and fuck me till I feel better." Sean releases Viggo's hands. "Because I've exhausted myself dealing with your inadequacies."

Viggo shudders. Sean's so fucking good at this. It hurts going down onto his hands and knees, but Sean wants it this way and so Sean'll get it. Viggo's nothing but a slut. Sean said so.

Sean makes a detour to the kitchen, where he quickly drains a bottle of Newcastle while standing with his face in the open freezer. He wasn't exaggerating when he said he was exhausted. Working through Viggo's downtimes is draining. He's glad they don't come more often.

Viggo crawls painstakingly into the bedroom and kneels a good distance from the side of the bed. Making himself look submissive, he settles down to wait.  
Walking into the bedroom, Sean just wants to crawl onto the bed and pass out, but Viggo looks so inviting on the floor. "Why does that not surprise me?" He drops too easily into role. "Still dressed. Have to be told to do everything?"

"Stripping was not part of the instructions, sir."

"That's what I mean." Sean walks to the bed's end, leans against the pencil post footboard. "Can't interpret for hell. I said you were going to fuck me. Did you think you could do that with clothes on?"

"No, sir. I didn't think, sir. I'm," Viggo straightens his back. "I'm a stupid bitch, sir."

"Don't flatter yourself. You haven't worked up to bitch." Sean pauses. "Well, do you need specific instructions on how to undress me?"

Viggo flushes red. "Yes, sir."

"Up off your knees."

Viggo pushes one leg up, then the other. He doesn't unclasp his hands. "Sir."

"Layers. Sweater first. Then the tee." Sean's arms hang loosely at his side. "Fold the clothes and put them on the chair as you do it."

Viggo walks over to Sean and does what he says. Clinically. He wants to run his fingers across Sean's chest, but that wasn't in the instructions.

"This is about all you're good for, boy. Now, the pants. Don't forget the shoes. They come off first." He's dropped into a condescending voice, master ordering servant around, and is very conscious of not giving Viggo permission to touch him other than to undress him.

Viggo drops back to his knees, feeling more steady there than standing. "Yes, sir. May your slut have the honor of licking the dust from your shoes?"

"If you think you can do it properly, g'head."

"Thank you, sir." Viggo bends his head and presses his tongue to the bend of the toe on Sean's right foot. He sweeps his tongue backwards in one smooth stroke until he reaches the heel.

Sean's not impressed by Viggo's careful attention to his shoe. He'd rather it be his cock. Or even the inside of his left elbow. But, then again, there is just the inkling of arousal at watching Viggo from above, seeing how he licks along the leather more diligently than normal. "Not bad," Sean says, putting as much nonchalance into his voice as possible. "Not good either, but it's the best I can expect."

Viggo doesn't answer, but the words cut just like he'd hoped they would when he first asked Sean for this. Sean's foot is warm under his mouth and Viggo repeats the stroke again, downward this time.

The temptation is strong to kick out, knock Viggo back, and Sean's finding his limits tested, but he's willing to go with the status quo for another minute or two. He flexes his foot, the movement nudging Viggo's nose a bit.

In response, Viggo presses his face even closer to Sean's shoe and inhales deeply. It smells earthy from the mud that Sean picked up after today's rainstorm. Earthy leather. Viggo licks again, shorter this time, covering the entire upper with caresses.

"You think this endears you to me? Makes you special." Sean forces out a laugh. "I could pick up any boy on any corner in London who'd do better than this."

Tears prick at Viggo's eyes but he refuses to let them fall. "Yes, sir."

"You try my patience, Mortensen," Sean says, slamming hard on the syllables of Viggo's name, as if taxed to even say it. He put the heel of his shoe against Viggo's chest and kicks out, gently enough so as he won't break any ribs but hard enough to be felt.

Viggo tumbles backwards and doubles over. He clutches his legs to his chest for too long a moment, then releases abruptly. "S-sorry, sir!"

"I'm sure I'll be disappointed in you." Sean toes out of the shoes and kicks them aside. "But I want to be fucked." He unzips his jeans and shucks them down his legs. "And I'm tired of waiting." He wads the denim up and throws it at Viggo. "Let's see if you can get at least part of it right."

Viggo catches the jeans and folds them in reflex. He rolls over onto his front and then his hands and knees, making sure he doesn't disturb Sean's clothes.

"Crawling's a good start." Sean eases himself onto the bed, pushes back onto the pillows, settles in. "But I want to see you strip."

"Yes, sir." Viggo stands and deposits the jeans on the chair. "Should I make a show out of it?"

"Yes. On the bed."

Viggo unzips his pants and pulls them slightly down before kneeling on the   
bed. "Sir."

"No. Stand up." Sean motions with his hands. "Strip. Make me believe I'm getting something worthwhile."

Viggo stands hesitantly and has to crouch a little to keep his balance. He begins with his shirt, going at it one button at a time, flicking it out with his thumb. He tries to smile enticingly.

"Whatever made you think anyone would want you?" Sean stretches his arm back into the pillows. "Tell me."

Viggo fumbles. "Um, sir, I..." Clears his throat, looks around wildly, then resumes stripping silently.

"That was a direct question, Mortensen." Again the harsh biting voice. "I expect an answer."

Viggo flinches. It's starting to get to him in ways he hadn't thought it would, and he isn't sure he likes it anymore. But he knows he needs it. "I don't charge, sir."

Sean laughs, deep and throaty. "You think I'd pay for this? I could have anyone." He licks his lips, then proceeds with the game in the general vicinity of it's logical conclusion. "Orli asked. Begged for it. And then Dom." Sean's free hand roams his chest. "Anything but innocent. Coulda had the lot of 'em." Fingers stroking casually over nipple and muscle. "But I let you stay when you showed up on the porch."

He'd known about Orli. And Dom. Doesn't make it any easier. "For-for which I am ever grateful, sir."

"As you should be." Sean's smile is menacing, absolutely no love in it. It's a role, Sean reminds himself, something Vig needs. " I don't do that many pity fucks."

Almost there. He's almost there. Almost where he fucking needs to be. "Ye-yes, sir."

"And that's all you are, Mortensen. A pity fuck." Sean's voice drops, his words become tersely enunciated. "'Cause I'm sure as hell not impressed with you. Not the bloody poet." Fingers ghost a stiffening cock. "Or the pathetic artist." Slide down an inner thigh. "Or even the fucked-up Method actor who wouldn't recognize the line 'tween reality and fantasy till the belt was cinched 'round his throat."

Viggo closes his eyes. _There. _To dwell in that place forever. "Caspian," he whispers.

Sean lets out the breath he thinks he started holding while they stood in front of the mirror. He's sure he's never heard a more beautiful word. Vig's safeword. He half-sits up, reaches out a hand. "C'mere, Vig. Let me hold you." Voice just as low as before, but much softer. "Let it go."

Viggo climbs into Sean's embrace and lets himself start shaking. "So sorry, Sean. So sorry. Didn't, didn't mean to take it out on you, I just needed it so bad, needed to be told I wasn't who they said I was, I was only who you said I was, and that was all that mattered, was that you were still there even though I wasn't worthy of any of this, of anything-anything like this. I was just some motherfucking faker and someone understood that but didn't judge me wrong and I needed you so fucking badly, Sean, needed you so much."

"Sshhh. S'alright now. S'over and done." Sean wraps one arm around Viggo, pulling in tightly. The other arm is busy, its hand caressing Viggo's face, its fingers running through his hair. "I know. I know you needed it. To hear all the lies I could throw at ya and think they were true."

Viggo isn't sure where he is right now, except that Sean's all around him, and that's a good thing. "Needed it, Sean, needed it so much. Know it isn't your most favorite thing, sorry, Sean, so sorry. Wanted it so bad. Love you. Need you. So sorry."

"You've got me. Forever." Sean brushes the hair back from Viggo's face. Drops a kiss on his temple. "Or till you toss me out."

"Never gonna do that. Ever. Love you, Sean. Need you. Need to see you every morning and put you to bed at night. Need to talk to you every day. Need to know you're happy."

"Ssshh. Stop talking." Caresses become gentle strokes as Sean's hand moves from Viggo's face down over neck and onto shoulder. "I'm happy. There wasn't a single word of truth in any of that scene." Sean tightens his hold, wanting to brace Viggo against the words he uses. "You're not pathetic. And you're definitely not a pity fuck. Love you too much to ever do that."

Viggo nods and lets the stream of tears finally fall. "Know you di'nt."

"Wanna sleep now?"

"Cuddle?"

"Get under the covers first. I'd like to be just a bit warmer."

Fingers scramble at the bedcovers, working to pull them down and move under them without too much jostling. Arms entwine around bodies and sleep comes with whispered mutterings, words lost in the sheets, confessions to be discovered in morning light.


End file.
